


Save Me From The World You Left

by starsontheceiling



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Donna's shitty ex makes an appearance, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Not Canon Compliant, Panic Attacks, Season/Series 06, gets a little bit angsty there in the middle but it doesn't stay that way
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-07
Updated: 2020-11-07
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:00:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27442330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starsontheceiling/pseuds/starsontheceiling
Summary: Donna used to have this daydream, back before everything fell apart. It went a little like this; she was at a campaign event in a beautiful dress, surrounded by her friends and she ran into Alan. It was stupid and embarassing and she hasn't thought about it in years.Until she runs into Alan during the Russell Campaign.
Relationships: Josh Lyman/Donna Moss
Comments: 32
Kudos: 171





	Save Me From The World You Left

**Author's Note:**

> A little thing that I've had hanging about in my WIP for months and was finally prompted to finish to distract me from the last few days. Now that we have some good news, a little bit of hurt/comfort to celebrate! It was orignally going to be canon compliant but that was too sad for when it's set so, here we go.  
> Title is a slightly altered lyric from Lost and Found by Katie Herzig (there's a great fanvid on youtube to it if you have a look).

During the second campaign Donna had this recurring daydream. There were several iterations of it, none of which she would ever reveal to anyone for fear of dying of embarrassment.

The basic outline went like this; she is surrounded by her friends during a campaign event and she runs into Alan. Sometimes it’s a fundraiser and she’s wearing a beautiful dress, sometimes it’s a more ordinary event and sometimes it’s just in a restaurant. The cast varies between the senior staff, the assistants and occasionally even the President and Dr. Bartlett. The only constants were her, looking amazing; Alan, realising what a fool he was; and Josh.

* * *

_They’re in Wisconsin and the President has just given a speech at some sort of benefit. The speech has gone down so well even Toby seems pleased. Bruno and his lot are nowhere to be seen and Sam is congratulating her on picking up a small detail up that the rest of them missed, meaning a meeting earlier in the day went better than they could have hoped for._

_“Ugh, sorry we took so long. There was some asshole doctor at the bar trying to talk my ear off about his hospital or something.” Josh says as he reappears with a tray of champagne. CJ is trailing him holding two more glasses._

_“A doctor? Talking about his hospital? How dare he!” Donna teases him and CJ groans._

_“No, he’s right. He tried to explain our healthcare plan to me, you know in that uniquely condescending way men have when they think they’re smarter than you?”_

_“It rings a bell,” Donna says, with a pointed look at Josh. He pretends to ignore her, handing Toby a glass._

_“I apologise for our gender,” says Sam._

_“For that, mi amor, you get my second glass of champagne,”_

_“Why thank you.”_

_“Josh,” Donna whines as he holds the tray out her reach, “I want some champagne!”_

_“Are you going to apologise for your remark?”_

_“What remark?”_

_“You know what remark.”_

_She reaches out for the glass but he turns away, holding the tray behind him with a grin._

_“CJ said it, not me!”_

_“Oh, give the girl a drink, would you?” Toby interjects, gruffly. “She deserves it for earlier.”_

_“I invited her, what more do you want?” Josh protests, even as he finally brings the tray within Donna’s reach. He dimples at her as she takes the glass, before depositing the tray on a nearby table._

_“Oh no.”_

_“What?” Sam looks alarmed at the expression on CJ’s face._

_“Incoming.”_

_Josh groans loudly and Toby elbows him. Donna looks over her shoulder to see what they’re all looking at and her heart stops. Walking towards them is Alan. The years have not been kind to him; he’s going grey and his suit was clearly bought 10 pounds ago._

_“What could possibly make this guy think we want to talk to him?” Josh mutters to Donna, who can’t even respond._

_“Hey, we didn’t get a chance to finish our conversation.” Alan still hasn’t noticed Donna._

_“Such a pity,” says Josh, with complete insincerity._

_Sam tries to smother his grin as he sticks out his hand. “Sam Seaborn and this is Toby Ziegler and-”_

_“We’ve met,” Donna interrupts and Alan’s smarmy expression falters._

_“Donna,” he laughs awkwardly, “it’s nice to see you again.”_

_“I’d say the same but it would be a lie.” Donna takes a sip of her Champagne and feels Josh stiffen beside her. He’s worked it out._

_“So, you’re the guy Donna put through medical school.” Josh’s calm tone belies his thunderous expression. She glances at the rest of her friends; CJ is smirking and Sam is stood ramrod straight in a way that implies he’s spoiling for a fight. Toby might look disinterested to those who don’t know him but Donna can tell he’s paying perfect attention._

_Alan looks like he’s regretting every decision that led him here. “I mean, that’s not exactly how I remember it,”_

_“That’s how Donna described it.” CJ’s says, like she’s setting a particularly annoying reporter up for a fall._

_“You wouldn’t be calling a top White House aide a liar, now would you?” Sam follows up, the perfect tag team. Alan flounders._

_It’s at this moment that Leo arrives. “Hey everyone, nice job this evening. You too, Donna, the president wanted me to thank you. You really saved our asses there.” He pauses when he notices Alan, “Who’s this?”_

_“No one important.” Toby says and Leo raises his eyebrows but takes it in his stride._

_“Alright then. Well, excuse us,” he turns his back on Alan, whose expression is reminiscent of CJ’s goldfish. “There’s some people I want you all to speak to.”_

_Leo begins to walk away and they follow._

_“Hey Doctor Freeride,” Josh says at the last moment, “take this back to the bar for us wouldn’t you?”_

_The last Donna sees of Alan is him standing in his ill-fitting suit, holding the empty drinks tray, as Josh puts his hand on the small of her back and guides her away from him._

_“That was fun.” CJ loops her arm through Donna’s. “Do you have any more terrible exes we can destroy?”_

_“Donna has a plethora of terrible exes.” Josh rolls his eyes._

_“I do not!”_

_“If we could focus on our jobs and not Donna’s love life, that would be wonderful.” Leo could not sound more exasperated if he tried and Josh shuts his mouth, suitably chastened._

_Later on, after the socialising and politicking, Josh asks her to dance._

_“You really do have the worst taste in men.”_

_“I think my taste is getting better.”_

_“Really?” He laughs in disbelief._

_“It’s not like your taste is women is any better.” Donna retorts._

_“Fair point,” he spins her around and then brings her back to him, closer than ever. “Although I think my taste might be getting better too.”_

* * *

It was ridiculous. _She_ was ridiculous; pining after Josh, desperate for everyone to realise how valuable she was, how much more she had to offer.

Then the night of the inauguration had happened and it was better than any daydream. All of the guys turning up to take her to the balls; Josh, throwing snowballs at her window like something out of a romcom; sitting on his lap in the cab and dancing with all of them but Josh the most. It had been such a perfect night.

When she thinks back over everything, that’s the night she pinpoints as the beginning of the end.

* * *

The third campaign consumes her every waking moment, leaving no time for silly daydreams. The (not-so) rare occasions her thoughts drift to Josh she immediately shuts them down. It’s been years since she’s entertained the fantasy of showing Alan exactly what he lost, in all honesty she had completely forgotten about it.

Of course, as soon as she sees the good doctor in her hotel bar, it all comes rushing back. She isn’t wearing a glamorous dress but a several day-old pant suit, she’s been up for almost 36 hours and she’d rubbed her eyes without thinking in the cab over so she’s pretty sure her make-up is all smudged.

Her leg is throbbing and very suddenly she wants to cry. ~~~~

For a moment she considers trying to slip away to her hotel room but then Will notices her and waves her over. She watches surprise flicker across Alan’s face. Determined to refuse to give him the satisfaction of watching her run away she grits her teeth, lifts her chin and walks over to them.

She doesn’t even limp.

“Hey Donna, do you have the files I need?” Will says carelessly, not even bothering to introduce her. She ignores the sting of humiliation; she’s used to being treated like an assistant after all. Is she imagining the smirk on Alan’s face?

“Yeah, of course,” she digs them out of her purse and hands them over. “The meeting went well, by the way.”

“Wouldn’t expect any different.” He smiles at her and she feels bad for thinking ill of him. Will is a normally good guy and they get along pretty well, it’s just a shame he slipped up in front of Alan of all people. “Everyone, this is Donna Moss, one of my top aides. Donna, this is some of the board from a local health charity that supports the uninsured.”

“Hello,” She smiles at them and wonders how quickly she can excuse herself. “Are you interested in showing support for the Vice President?”

“We’re considering it.” The oldest of the men says. “Santos has some big ideas though, and he certainly appeals to the demographic our charity supports.”

“We’re not necessarily locked on a democratic candidate either.” Will frowns at this and Donna mentally waves her chances of an early night goodbye.

“Vinick’s a hell of a guy.” Alan agrees. “If he gets the nomination, he’s going to get my vote.”

“If your charity supports the uninsured, I believe you would be better suited supporting a democrat.” Donna can’t help rising to the obvious bait. “The state of healthcare in our country is,”

Alan, of course, interrupts her. “This is just like old times, ey Donna.”

“Old times?” Will is the one who speaks but the rest of them look just as confused.

“Oh, Donna and I go way back!” Alan throws his arm around her shoulders and it catches her off guard, forcing her weight onto her bad leg. She winces. “We dated while I was in medical school and she was always trying to have these political debates with me, trying to get me to vote democrat.” She gently shrugs, trying to dislodge his arm. He doesn’t get the hint. “Of course, that was before she broke my heart and ran off to join Bartlet’s campaign!”

And then, because this evening just couldn’t get any fucking worse, she locks eyes with Josh.

“President Bartlet.” She corrects Alan automatically, all her attention across the room. Josh looks about as good as she feels; his suit is hanging off him, his hair is standing on end and the expression on his face can only be described as stricken. _Come save me_ , she thinks, _please just get me out of here_. She doesn’t know what he sees on her face but he turns away. A lump appears in her throat as she watches him walk back into the lobby.

She drags her attention back to her companions and realises she’s obviously just been asked something.

“Hm?”

“I was just wondering how you ended up here,” Alan pauses and an almost forgotten instinct tells her to brace herself for what’s coming next. “I always figured they wouldn’t want to keep a college drop-out waitress after the campaign ended.”

(Unnoticed, Josh makes the mistake of looking back, just in time to see Alan’s shot land.)

Donna feels her face bloom red with humiliation. She _knows_ Will knows she doesn’t have a college degree, she knows she doesn’t need one because she has experience in Washington that many would kill for, but she feels just as small and pathetic as she did ten years ago when Alan bullied her into dropping out.

_I’m not twenty anymore, he doesn’t get to make me feel like that._

She finds her voice. “Josh Lyman hired me to be his assistant.”

“Which basically made her deputy deputy chief of staff.” Josh’s grin and posture belie the exhaustion she saw written all over him barely a minute ago. He looks every inch Bartlet’s Bulldog.

Will, on the other hand, looks on the verge of tears. “Josh.”

“Hey Will,” Josh claps him on the back, “enjoying the Midwest?”

“Up until about thirty seconds ago.”

Josh laughs at that and sticks his hand out to Alan, who finally removes his arm from around her shoulders. From the way Josh’s eyes flicker to her face she guesses that was the sole reason for the handshake.

“So, you hired Donna after the campaign?” Alan asks once the introductions are done. It sounds casual, like he’s trying to make small talk, like he didn’t leave innumerous voicemails after she left calling her a slut, telling her that her stupid boss wasn’t going to keep a dumb college drop out after the campaign ended, and if he did it was only because he wanted to get into her pants.

“She was such an asset to us all during the first campaign,” Josh says with complete sincerity. He’s talking to Alan but looking straight at her. “It would have taken an idiot not to see her value.”

She has no idea how to respond. It’s not like Josh has never complimented her; she’s been the recipient of quite a few devastatingly heartfelt compliments over the years, just infrequently enough that they blindsided her every time. In typical Josh-fashion, they’ve nearly always been delivered at wildly inappropriate moments. She used to wonder if it was a defence mechanism, if he was scared of what might happen if he was that vulnerable when they were alone.

“In fact,” Josh carries on like he hasn’t just taken her feet out from under her, “President Bartlet told Leo he wasn’t allowed to make me deputy unless Donna was my assistant. Said I was unbearable before she started working for me.”

Donna can’t help but laugh at the obvious untruth. “You were pretty unbearable even when I was working for you.” She teases him, her tone light. She wonders after she’s said it if there’s too much between them now for that kind of comment.

Thankfully, Josh seems to take it in the way it was meant. “I was preparing you for the cut-throat world of profession politics!” He counters, “Will here should be thanking me.”

“I don’t know if I would go that far,” Will rolls his eyes, “But I’m very glad Donna is part of our team.” He gives her a small, genuine smile before putting his game face back on. “Talking of politics, I think we should probably get back to it. Was there something you wanted, Josh?”

“Donna.” He says it quickly, automatically. In response, Will’s eyebrows shoot up.

“Joshua?” It’s muscle memory more than anything; an exchange they’ve had a hundred thousand times before.

“I wanted to talk to you for a few minutes, if you can spare them. About, uh,” he fumbles for a moment, “a birthday present, for CJ. I’m not sure what to get her.” CJ’s birthday isn’t until after the election and from the way Will is frowning Donna is pretty sure he knows that. She can’t find it in herself to care.

“You’ve got this?” Donna asks Will in an undertone.

He glances uneasily at Josh but nods. “Get an early night, you deserve it after the past few days. We can catch up at breakfast.”

“Ok, well, it was lovely to meet you all.” She smiles at the assembled men before turning to Alan. “And to see you again, Alan. I’m glad you’re doing well.”

He leans forward as if he’s going to kiss her cheek but she senses Josh drift closer to her back and whatever is on his face makes Alan jerk back and smile unpleasantly at her instead.

“Likewise. It’s such a surprise to see you doing so well for yourself but I’m happy for you.” Donna suppresses the urge to roll her eyes at his backhanded compliment.

_Asshole._

She turns to Josh, his expression suspiciously blank as he gestures her forward.

“You don’t trust your new assistant to do your present shopping?”

“I don’t have an assistant anymore. Campaign life.” He shrugs, playing along until they’re out earshot. He glances at her and lowers his voice. “You alright?”

She nods, not quite trusting herself to speak. She’s worried everything will just tumble out.

“Who was that guy?”

Donna gives a humourless laugh. “It was Alan.” Josh gives her a blank look. She sighs. “Doctor Freeride?”

“What?” Josh turns back to look at him in surprise. “Seriously?”

“Josh.” She hisses and gives him a whack with her bag. “Do you want to be any more obvious?”

“Sorry.” He says, unrepentantly. “That’s the original gomer? He’s less good looking than I expected.”

She doesn’t dignify that with a response, simply presses the call button for the elevator. It immediately opens and Josh places his hand on her lower back to guide her through the doors. It’s nothing he hasn’t done a thousand times before but she stiffens at the unexpected contact and he yanks his hand back.

“What floor are you on?”

“Seventh.”

“Me too.” There’s a long pause and Donna silently wishes the floor would swallow her whole.

“So, um,” he begins, “How long are you-“

“Why did you come back?” She interrupts his pitiful attempt at small talk, she can’t help herself. “I saw you walk away. I know you noticed me.”

Josh sighs and looks at the floor. Now his mask has come back down, and she’s close to him he looks more exhausted than ever. She feels a wave of concern. _I wonder if he’s taking his heart medication._

“He said something to you. I saw it.” He runs a hand through his hair, clearly agitated. There’s a part of her that hates how easily she can still read him. “And I could tell your leg was hurting by the way you were standing. I thought…” He pauses. “Will didn’t seem to be doing anything so I thought, well,”

He’s interrupted by the ding of the elevator; they’ve reached their floor. This time there’s no hand to her lower back to guide her through over the threshold. She’s relieved. Honestly.

“I don’t know. I thought maybe you could use some backup.”

She wants to snap at him, wants to tell him she doesn’t need saving, _especially_ not by him, but it’s been a long day and she just can’t bring herself to lie to him.

“I did. Thank you.”

His face clears, like the sun come out from behind a cloud, and something in her chest unwinds a little too.

“What number are you?”

“Seven fifteen.”

“Huh.”

“What?”

“We’re neighbours.”

Donna can’t help but laugh; the whole evening feels like one great cosmic joke. Josh smiles tentatively at her. She knows Josh used to finagle it such that they were close to each other in any hotel they spent the night at. Once they’d even had connecting doors, but Josh had been weirdly cagey that whole evening and it had never happened again. She tries not to dwell on that too much.

“I enjoyed your lie about the President, that was a nice touch.”

“What lie?” Josh frowns at her, obviously confused.

“About saying you had to hire me before Leo was allowed to make you his deputy.”

“That wasn’t a lie.”

“What?” She’s so taken aback she stops walking and Josh halts too, half a step in-front. He turns to face her.

“Yeah, you have no idea how sick of me everyone was after you left. Leo and the President called a meeting just to give me an entire lecture about the importance of having a good assistant that I could rely on.” Josh huffs a laugh at the memory and she smiles too, remembering the heady early days of the campaign. “It wasn’t just me who noticed how good you were at your job.”

She tucks that knowledge away, to remind her that she’s wrong on days when she feels like she’s stupid and talentless and will never make anything of herself. If the President can see how much she had to offer at 24, surely she can see it now. She starts to walk again and Josh falls easily into step with her. It takes them less than a minute to reach their room.

“Well. This is us.” She curses herself as soon as the inane statement leaves her mouth. How has Josh’s social ineptitude already rubbed off on her?

“Do you want to come in for coffee?” He blurts out, too fast and eager. She can’t hide her surprise.

“It’s very late.”

“Of course. Sorry. That was a dumb suggestion.”

“It wasn’t a no.” _Why did I say that? All I want is a bath and an early night, why am I doing this?_

This time it’s him who can’t hide his shock.

She ignores her common sense and waits. He fumbles with the key, and in another strange deja vu she has to take the key card from him to unlock the door.

“How do you still not know how to use these?” She teases him, as she pushes open the door.

“You just have the magic touch.” He grumbles. “I tried doing it the way you do and it never works for me.”

“You’re too impatient.” She says as he goes to flip on the lamps.

_What am I doing here?_

Josh is evidently wondering the same thing. He drops his bag and for a moment just stands there, looking at her.

“Coffee. Right. I’m gonna make decaffeinated, if that’s alright.”

She hums in agreement. There’s only one chair, and Josh has already draped his jacket over the back of it. She puts down her bag at the foot of the bed and dithers for a moment over her coat.

“Maybe I should go.”

Josh looks at her and tries for a smile. “You just got here.”

“What are we doing here Josh?”

“You’re the one who said yes.”

“You asked.”

“I don’t know.” He looks at the coffee, dripping into the pot and sighs. “Obviously you don’t have to stay, but…” He looks back at her, straight in the eye, another moment of devastating Lyman sincerity. “I would like it if you did.”

For a long moment there’s just the two of them, in the low light of the room, staring at each other. She takes off her coat and he smiles.

“You want the chair? Or do you want to stretch your leg out?”

“The bed might be better.” She admits.

“Of course.” He takes her coat and drapes it over his, before turning back to the coffee pot as she makes herself comfortable. He pours the coffee and she watches as she makes her coffee just the way she likes it, without even having to ask. She still has his coffee preferences memorised too.

She smiles as he hands her the cup. “Thank you.”

“See, isn’t it nice when people bring you coffee?”

She rolls her eyes. “Are you ever going to let that go? I brought it to you sometimes.”

“Yeah, _cold_ coffee. Or when I was about to get fired.”

She shrugs. “Beggars can’t be choosers, Josh.”

He laughs at her. “I guess not.” He’s still standing, awkwardly hovering by the small cabinet that doubles as a mini fridge and the only table in the room. She pats the bed beside her.

“You sure?”

“Don’t be dumb.” She says, in an admirable show of false bravado. “There’s plenty of room, and besides, it’s your bed.”

He gets comfortable. They’re not touching but he’s close enough she can feel the heat coming off him. Somehow it’s easier when she can’t see his face. Maybe it’s illusion of privacy that prompts her, or the tiredness, or the nostalgia. Maybe it’s just because she’s so tired of pretending.

“I used to daydream about this.”

She times it well, and Josh splutters on his coffee. “Being in bed with me?”

“No!” _Well yes, but that’s not the point._ “I used to have this daydream, before, when I still worked for you, that we’d run into Alan at a fundraiser.”

“Huh.”

She sneaks a glance at him, but he just looks perplexed. “I used to imagine, being at a ball, looking beautiful and we’d be talking and he’d turn up and see how well I’d done for myself, and be so humiliated.”

“Well you weren’t at a ball, but you got the rest of them.”

“Josh.”

“What?”

She gestures at herself and he just rolls his eyes. “You always look beautiful, you know that.”

She doesn’t know what makes her say it, but it’s out of her mouth before she can stop it. “Even in the hospital?”

“Especially then.”

She turns to stare at him, in total disbelief. “I was all bruised and cut up and my hair was full of dust and blood and I was only being given sponge baths.”

“You were alive.”

She’s taken back to the night of Rosslyn, crying in that dingy little waiting room, hardly able to breathe, to Mrs. Landingham lending her a rosary as they sat and prayed together. She remembers that first sight of him, pale and dirty and full of wires but _alive_.

He’d been beautiful then too.

How did they get from that to here?

She takes a large gulp of her coffee and tries to diffuse the situation. “Well, the ball was the biggest part of the fantasy really.”

He laughs. “There will be more balls. We can even invite Doctor Freeride if you want.”

“Absolutely not. Anyway, how many more balls are we going to go to together?”

“A lot, I hope. Maybe we can beat last inauguration night and go to nine.”

“We can’t both win.”

He shrugs. “You can be my plus one.”

“And what if I win?”

“You mean I won’t be yours? After I so graciously offered you mine?”

“You’d really come to Bob Russell’s inauguration?” She asks in disbelief as she deposits her cup on the bedside cabinet.

“If you invited me, I would.”

She ignores the images that conjures up, of him in a tuxedo, her on his arm, dancing the night away. “You’d spend the entire night bitching.”

“Probably.” He tilts his head back and it hits the headboard with a soft thunk. “You don’t seriously want him to win?”

_And we were having such a nice time._

“Josh…”

“Come work for me again, for Santos,” He’s sitting forward and waving his hands about, animated all of a sudden. She closes her eyes, taking refuge in the darkness it provides.

“Josh.”

“Think of everything we could do,”

“Josh.”

“If we were together again! Forget about Russell,”

“Joshua!” She opens her eyes again as she snaps his name.

He finally stops, a chagrined look on his face.

“I don’t want to work with you again.”

He drops his gaze, a hurt he doesn’t have any right to feel so clearly written across his face.

“You could work on a different part of the campaign.” He offers, deliberately missing the point.

“That’s not the point and you know it.” She says, irritated. He still won’t look at her. Are they going to spend the rest of their lives avoiding each other’s eyes? She gentles her tone. “I want to do this for myself.”

“Do you honestly want him to be president? Don’t lie.”

She can’t answer.

He presses on. “Don’t you miss it, working for a candidate you could believe in? That inspires you?”

And she hates him, she hates him, she _hates_ him.

Because he’s right.

“That’s not the point.” She says, so much weaker this time. She digs her fingers into her thigh and wishes she’d just said no, that he’d never come back to rescue her

Josh looks almost disgusted. “What the hell happened to you?”

“I wanted more out of my life than being an assistant.” She snaps, swinging her legs down off of the bed. “Sue me for taking a good job offer after my boss screwed me over.”

“I screwed you over?” He growls as she struggles with her shoes. “You’re the one who left me!”

“Left you?” She cries out in angry disbelief, whirling around to face him as she finally stands up. “I didn’t leave you! I quit my job!”

“What difference does it make?”

“I was just your assistant, Josh! I didn’t owe you my entire life!”

His face shutters, his anger disappearing as suddenly as if someone flicked a switch inside of him. He puts his cup down just a little too hard.

“It’s late.” He says hollowly, as if she isn’t already about to leave. “I think I should get some sleep. I’ll see you around.” He stands, jerkily and pushes into the bathroom.

She’s left standing there, disconcerted. Her ire has drained out of her just as quickly as Josh’s seems to have done. This isn’t how fights with Josh go, they both get loud, until someone storms off. She can’t tell if she won or lost. Considering how drained she feels, she wasn’t the winner but this was hardly a victorious Josh. The sound of the taps beginning to run jolts her out of her quiet crisis. She goes to the door with a heavy heart but she can’t help herself from peering into gap left by the ajar bathroom door.

Josh is gripping the sides of the sink, hanging his head. She’s seen that hunched outline before, the way his back is shaking a little and in the end she’s as helpless to it as she’s always been.

“Josh?” She says gently, pushing open the door. His head snaps up and he stares at her in the mirror. His eyes are wide and glassy. Now that she’s inside the bathroom she can hear his shaky, panicked breathing over the running water. “Josh, I’m sorry.”

He makes a sound that might have been a laugh, if there were any humour in it at all. “What are you sorry for? You’re right. You don’t owe me anything.” His voice is uneven and she can’t stand it. In a different time she would have hugged him but instead she stands at the door, her hands fluttering with the urge to comfort him.

“We both know that isn’t true.”

He drops his gaze and sticks his hands under the water, hissing a little as he does it. She looks at him in concern as he stands there, making no attempt to wash his hands, just letting the water run over them. He looks back up at her.

“Why are you still here?”

“I’m just really bad at leaving you, I guess.”

“Could’ve fooled me.” He says bitterly.

She’s so very tired. The harsh lighting of the bathroom isn’t doing either of them any favours, the bags under eyes are only exacerbated by her smudged makeup but Josh looks even worse, deathly pale and almost gaunt. His eyes look even darker than normal.

“I don’t know what you want from me.” She says eventually.

“For you to not have left.”

“Well I did! I did and I had to and I’m so sorry I hurt you!” She’s on the verge of tears. “But you hurt me so many times over! I needed more and you refused to give it to me. I had to leave Josh, I gave you so many chances! You could have called me, I left you my number but you never did! You can’t keep blaming me.”

“I don’t blame you.” He grinds out.

She laughs, angry at the blatant lie. “Oh really?”

“I blame myself.” He’s looking straight at her and none of the pain his eyes is lost in the mirror, she can feel every ounce of it. It’s unbearable. “You almost died! I almost killed you the last time I gave you a promotion and I just,” his voice cracks and he breaks eye contact, hanging his head in shame.

“Josh, what happened in Gaza wasn’t your fault.” She realises she’s crying, hot tears spilling down her cheeks. She scrubs at her face, desperate to hide how upset she is by this whole interaction.

“Yes, it was.”

“No, it wasn’t, no more than what happened at Rosslyn,” he flinches as she says it but she presses on, “Was Charlie and Zoe’s fault, or Simon was CJ’s. It wasn’t your fault. I went, I wanted to go. You don’t get to take that choice away from me.”

Impossibly, his shoulders tense even further. Unseen, he clenches his fists, digging his fingernails into his palms. They’re so numb from the water he barely feels it.

“The way you behaved, Josh, we could have gotten past it, if you’d just told me, if you’d just said…” She hates seeing him so upset but she has to make him understand.

“I know.” He chokes on the words. “I know, okay? I get it! I screwed everything up and now it’s too late to fix it and you were finally free of me. I thought, I didn’t want to, you deserve to be happy, to have more but God, it tortures me, thinking about what we could have done but it doesn’t matter because I screwed everything up! With everyone!”

She can’t help the sob that escapes her and he turns around, hands dripping, and stares at her.

“Donna, don’t cry I’m so sorry. I’m,”

She throws herself at him and he exhales with the force of it. She wraps her arms around him as tight as she dares, feeling with horror how much thinner he is since the last time she hugged him. Slowly he relaxes into it, tucking his chin into her shoulder. He slowly exhales and it’s still shaky. Pressed up against him she can feel his heart, beating a tattoo of panic against her sternum. He smoothes his hands up and down her back.

“It’s okay, it’s alright. Don’t cry.”

“You are such an idiot.” She sniffles. He tenses at her words, tries to pull back, but she just holds on even tighter. “You honestly think we couldn’t have figured things out if you hadn’t just called? You think after everything, I’d just walk away without looking back?”

“I was ashamed.” He admits, his voice muffled by her shoulder. “That you were struggling and I was so tied up in myself I didn’t notice it.”

“Maybe both of us were a little blind to each other.”

“I really am sorry, I…”

“I know, it’s okay.”

The stand like that for a while, swaying a little, in the fluorescent lights, just holding each other, until Donna becomes aware of a damp feeling where Josh’s hand rests.

“You didn’t dry your hands.”

“Uh,” he pulls back and this time she lets him, although she feels immediately bereft at the loss of contact. “Sorry? You distracted me a little there, Donnatella.”

She’s about to respond but she’s interrupted by a yawn. He smiles, a little ruefully. “We should probably both go to bed.”

“Yeah.”

There’s a moment of awkwardness. Donna reaches out to brush lint off of Josh’s shoulder and he smiles at her. She doesn’t want to leave, doesn’t want to break this truce when it’s still so new but she can’t think of any further excuses to linger. She’s about to pick her bag when Josh speaks.

“Where do we go, from here?” Her sounds uncharacteristically nervous; he must have the same fears she does.

“I don’t know.” She admits. “I don’t want to go back to not talking.”

“Yeah. Don’t suppose there’s any chance I could convince you to switch sides?”

“Josh…” She sighs and he raises his hands in placating gesture.

“I was kidding.” He smiles at her but she can tell he isn’t quite telling the truth, despite his best efforts.

“I need to see this through, I need something for myself, you get that right?”

“Even though you don’t believe in him?”

Her frustration flares once again. He’s never going to get it, she’s always going to have to prove herself to him, isn’t she? She opens her mouth to unleash an angry tirade but his eyes widens and he speaks before she gets the chance to start.

“I’m not trying to start another fight, I just, I don’t get it. There’s no shame in changing sides. I did it for the President because he was the real thing. I believe Santos is too.”

She almost wants to hold onto her anger but it slips through her fingers like sand.

“I know you do but for me, it’s not about believing in Russell, or Santos. I let Alan run my entire life, and then I left him and I ran straight into you and…” She trails off, knowing how that sounds. Josh does a good job of hiding it but she can see that the comparison pains him. “It wasn’t the same with you but I spent almost eight years with the majority of my life revolving around you and the West Wing and I just… I want to pick me, I believe in me. I want to act on it, for once. I’m doing good work here, with Will. I want to keep doing that. I want to show myself I can be good at this without you. I’m not saying it has to be forever, just for a little while. Just to prove it to myself.”

“Okay.” He says gently, his eyes softening. “The day of the primary, if you want it, if it goes my way, I’ll have a job waiting for you, or even before. You just say the word.”

“And if I don’t want that? Or if we win?”

“Well,” he looks so very nervous and her breath catches. “In that case, how about you call me up and I’ll take you out for dinner.”

She screws her courage to the sticking place. “Like a date?”

“If you want.”

Her smile lights up her entire face and Josh brightens too, his smile eclipsing his exhaustion until he looks like he did the day they met; young and bright eyed and full of hope.

“Is it an either or?”

“What do you mean?”

“If you win and I want a job, does that mean no date?”

“I don’t think they have to be mutually exclusive.” He says, giddy. “I’ll make sure you aren’t my direct insubordinate.”

“Ok.” She smiles back at him, basking in the joy of finally, _finally_ figuring this out. She’s loved this man for almost a decade. She can wait one more month for a date.

“Do you want that?”

She nods vigorously and he smiles even wider.

“Okay, good. Me too. Good.”

Now she laughs at his ineloquence. It looks like he’s about to say something else but like she was earlier, he’s interrupted by a yawn.

“I really do need to go to bed.” He admits sheepishly. “I’m beat.”

“Me too.” Part of her wants him to ask her to stay but she knows better. They’re on opposite sides, it’s a bad idea on innumerous levels.

He picks up her bag and gestures her to the door. They linger there for a moment, both of them just drinking the other in.

“Text me.” She says, a little desperately. “If we’re in a city at the same time we can get a coffee, or something.”

“I will.”

She takes a deep breath and holds her hand out for her bad. As he passes it to her he leans forward and kisses her ever so gently on the cheek. She can’t help herself, she turns her head, brings one hand up to cup his cheek.

The kiss is chaste but still sets her insides alight. He’s the one to pull away, but only barely.

“Donna, I l-” he begins. She knows what he’s about to say because it’s on her lips too.

“Not yet.” She begs him. “I won’t be able to leave if you finish that sentence.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.” She steels herself and opens the door. He stands there, leaning against the doorjamb until she has her own door open.

“Goodnight Donna.” He says it so gently, his eyes soft and warm.

“Goodnight Josh.” It hurts a little when she closes the door, but only a little. Mostly, she just feels content. Yes, she’s leaving him but it’s only temporarily. They’ll be together again.

When she finally lays down to sleep, for the first time in months, she lets herself be lulled to sleep by daydreams of Josh.


End file.
